


What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

by 23smiles



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-06-23 13:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19702702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/23smiles/pseuds/23smiles
Summary: Tywin Lannister discovers Arya's identity at Harrenhal, and now she's an important part of the game. Tywin/Arya Game of Thrones AU. Tywin and Arya are slightly OC for plot purpose. Arya is an adult.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Wolf Amongst Lions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15494880) by [Kallypso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kallypso/pseuds/Kallypso). 



> Disclaimer: GOT belongs to George R. R. Martin, I own nothing. Lines that seem like they're from the show/book, are.  
> A/N: Other works have also been quoted/adapted for parts of this story, and will be referenced.

After all that she endured to escape King's Landing Arya Stark found herself right back where she started; at the mercy of the Lannisters. She'd seen the dirty, envious glares she received when Lord Tywin had taken her from the hell pit of prisoners and named her his new cupbearer. She knew she should consider herself lucky to be saved from whatever horrors the rest of the lot had been subjected to, but in her mind this was the worst thing that could have happened.

Now she was right under the enemy's nose. She had to bow and serve this evil monster who had done awful things to her family. Arya remembered her father once saying he'd sooner entrust a child to a pit viper than to Tywin Lannister. But since being on the road, she had learned to curb some of her more rash tendencies, if only to survive. By no means was the wolf gone, merely hidden, biding its time. She would play this role for now.

As Tywin Lannister's cupbearer Arya became privy to things she'd only dreamed of. The war council proved to be very educational, and by far the most entertaining. Listening to him rage and berate his advisors like children gave Arya great satisfaction. Even she, who was by no means trained on warfare, would have been able to come up with better ideas than those old farts. Of course, Lord Tywin picked up on her smirks, and smug air. When he confronted her, instead of apologizing she simply said,

"I see now I was mistaken in thinking you were losing this war due to the brilliance of your opponent." At her response he let out a short bark of laughter.

"You're a sharp thing, aren't you? Go on." He said, indicating her dismissal. To her surprise, she found that his reaction pleased her, and she strived to do it again.

As the weeks wore on, and the battles continued her view of Tywin Lannister began to shift. Her hatred slowly turned into begrudging respect for the man. He was neither humble, nor arrogant; simply confident. And, as much as she hated each and every decision he made against Robb, they were driven by pragmatism, and she had to admit she would have done the same in his position.

It seemed that he, too, sought her out, because he started keeping her behind after after all his generals had been dismissed. He would ask for her thoughts on one general or another, depending on who had made themselves a fool that day. Arya now looked forward to these moments with him. He let her speak her mind, and she made it a game to see how many times she could get him to break his stoic expression. She hadn't realized until this point that she missed having someone to talk to; though she tried not to dwell too long on the fact that he was still an enemy.

* * *

If anyone else had been privy to their conversations they would have sworn he was an imposter. Tywin Lannister was known as a formidable lord who left no room for defiance or incompetence. Letting a lowly servant talk back to him was unthinkable. And yet he did. He did not know why he allowed her such freedoms, but her words had become a welcome respite from the ineptitude of his bannermen.

Besides, she was no servant, of that he was certain. Her knowledge of Westerosi history, her mannerisms, and the way she carried herself around the most noble of his men indicated that she was high born. Moreover, she possessed physical features that were distinctly of Northern descent. Her dark eyes, and dark hair were a striking contrast against her ivory skin. He had briefly entertained the idea of trying to use her in the war, but ultimately figured it would be unlikely for Robb Stark to be moved by someone's cousin from one of the lesser houses.

One afternoon, he lost his patience much sooner than usual. He had been up all night strategizing with his commanders, and yet they were no closer to even a semblance of a plan. Time was not on their side, but the war council continued to bombard him with foolish suggestions.

"We cannot wait for him to make a mistake, because he won't." He finally snapped.

"He is winning battle after battle, and his support grows. You are all treating him like the fool you want him to be, rather than the commander he's proved himself to be." Tywin took his time to glare at every single person sitting at the table.

"Girl." He barked.

"You're obviously from the North. Tell me, what do they say about Robb Stark in the North?" He had never spoken directly to her during his council, but she quietly stepped forward and raised her head.

"They say he rides into battle on the back of a direwolf. They say he can turn into a wolf himself if he wants. They say he can't be killed." Thinking about her brother caused a small smile to appear.

"And do you believe them?" Tywin asked.

"No, my lord." Arya met his gaze.

"Anyone can be killed." The slight quirk of his mouth was gone in an instant; the only indication he was amused to begin with. She quickly dropped her gaze and went back to work, angrily berating herself. Even though he allowed her more liberties than the average servant, it was not wise to forget who she was dealing with. As the meeting continued, she hoped that he'd forget her foolish remark. Arya made an effort to stick to the shadows, and planned to slip out with the last of his generals, but Lord Tywin had other plans.

"Not you, girl." She stopped in her tracks, and turned slowly towards him. He was going to punish her for stepping out of line. He waited until she was in front of him.

"Anyone can be killed?" She kept her head down.

"And how would you kill Robb Stark, girl?" Arya looked up, startled. That was not what he was supposed to say. Before she had time to think, words spilled out of her mouth as if they had been waiting for the chance.

"The one who passes the sentence should swing the sword." Those were the words she'd heard her father say a thousand times. If Arya wanted to kill someone, she'd opt to run them through with a sword herself. But Tywin didn't react to her words, as if waiting for her to elaborate.

"But in terms of warfare, you said you cannot wait for him to make a mistake." She continued.

"So you've got to lead him to one. The death of pragmatism is emotion. Play to that weakness. He may be gifted on the battlefield, but he's still green when it comes to politics. Offer his sister in return for his fealty to the crown."

"That's an interesting notion." He said thoughtfully.

"Go now." Arya cursed herself as she left. Lord Tywin had an uncanny talent for getting her to talk. She had essentially betrayed her brother, and she felt the guilt rise up within her. The only assurance she had was that it was simply another one of his games, nothing more. The Hand of the King would never take military advice from his cupbearer— and a girl no less.

* * *

_The one who passes the sentence should swing the sword._

Her words echoed in his mind long after he'd dismissed her. They were oddly familiar to him, but he had no idea where he'd heard them before. And yet, he had an inkling those words might tell him something about who his cupbearer really was. It was a rather noble notion after all. He had also noticed she had been rather loose lipped when he'd questioned her earlier. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he'd be able to get the information out of her.

As for her ideas about Robb Stark, he was actually quite impressed. It was certainly better than anything his generals had come up with. If only she had been a Lannister; he would have enjoyed cultivating her sharp mind. As he thought about her suggestion, he nodded to himself. The beginnings of a plan were taking shape. He pulled out a quill and parchment. First, he needed the two Stark girls delivered from King's Landing.

While his letter made its way to King's Landing, he found himself testing the girl more and more, to pass the time. He first asked her where she was from. She gave a solid lie about being from Barrowton, even remembering their house and sigil. Then he quizzed her on the neighboring towns, to which she also answered correctly; yet more evidence that she was of noble birth. What lowborn, unworldly girl would know the house and sigil of other places?

Arya, too, was growing more comfortable around Lord Tywin. She made less of an effort to hide her disdain at his generals during their meetings, and he even asked her opinion in front of them more than once. She had become quite satisfied with her standing. However, her increased comfortability also caused her to lower her guard. And in enemy territory, one was never safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review, follow, and favorite as it please you. X


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything GOT related.

When she wasn't serving Lord Tywin, Arya made the rest of Harrenhal her business. She liked to practice her stealth, and the information she gleaned was reward enough. That morning she found herself with quite a bit of free time. It was odd for Lord Tywin to not have her serving the council's table, so she decided to see if she could listen in instead.

"The girls will be delivered to Harrenhal, and I will contact Robb Stark for a meeting." Arya's breath caught in her throat. He could only be talking about Sansa. That had been her plan. And by the way he said girls, it seemed he didn't know that Arya was no longer at the capitol, and she dreaded what would happen once he found out. And yet, a swell of accomplishment overcame her, conflicting with her worry. He really had been listening to her. It was the first time someone had truly taken her seriously. The talking resumed, but all she heard was muttering.

"Would you care to repeat that?" Tywin's voice rang out. Silence followed. She imagined the lord in question had gone pale, as Tywin stared him down. That was one of his favorite tactics, prolonged silence.

"Making peace with the North makes us look weak. We still have more men, we can destroy them and end the rebellion for good." The man answered.

"It's a wonder you even made it to commander. War is more than just fighting; it's politics. If you cannot see that then there's no place for you at this table. Get out." A chair scrapped against stone, and Arya had just enough time to round the corner as the door swung open, and an angry general exited the room.

Lord Tywin's words ran through her head for the rest of the day. She wasn't sure why she had not been let in on that meeting, but she assumed it must have something to do with it being her plan. Maybe he didn't want his generals knowing that he had let her devise one of his battle plans after all. Or maybe he had figured out who she was, and didn't want her to gain any more information on his strategies.

What worried her even more was what he would do when only Sansa was delivered. She hoped that he wouldn't scrap her plan altogether. She wanted it to work. She wanted the war to end, and to return to Winterfell without any more of her family dying.

Arya didn't sleep much the following week. She kept anticipating her sister's arrival, and tried to come up with ways to avoid her. As much as she wanted to see her sister, she couldn't risk Sansa giving her away. She had seen Tywin's wrath to those who went against him, and she had lied and tricked him right to his face. Escaping had crossed her mind several times, but it might seem too suspicious if she left right before Sansa arrived.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, girl." Tywin informed her one day.

"To the Lannister camp. Be ready at first light." His tone indicated her dismissal, and she could see by his body language that he was in no mood for a verbal spar today. She nodded and left him to his work.

* * *

Once again, Arya found herself traveling the King's Road in the company of Lannisters. It was a two day's ride to the encampment, so Arya figured she had at least that much time before she had to worry about her sister.

Tywin gathered his generals as soon as he arrived. He informed them of the impending delivery of the Stark girls, and his plans to offer peace. None of lords offered any dissent, perhaps already aware of what happened to the last man.

It was dusk by the time the council dispersed, and Arya was tired. She exited the tent and automatically turned left. She passed a good five tents before she realized she didn't know where she was. Her feet had carried her as if she were still back in Harrenhal, but now she was in unfamiliar territory. Arya also realized she didn't know where she was supposed to stay, so she turned around to head back to Tywin's tent.

No sooner had she gone ten paces did she collide with someone, knocking both of them to the ground. The soldier righted himself as his companions caught up. One of them slapped him on the back.

"All right there, clumsy?" He snickered. The other soldier jerked his arm away. It seemed he didn't take well to the innocent jab.

"You there, servant." He turned his attention on her instead.

"Watch where you're going! We're important men here. Can't have little kids like you in our way." Arya raised her eyebrow, unamused at his attempt at intimidation.

"If you're so important, shouldn't you know where you're going? Pushing little girls isn't very dignified." His face contorted in anger, before settling on a leer.

"A girl, eh? You wouldn't happen to be the Lord Commander's personal slave, now would ya?" Arya, defiance flaring up, didn't heed the look in his eye.

"And what if I am?"

"Then I think it's about time someone teach you some manners. We can't have you serving our Lord Commander without proper training."

The soldiers closed in, blocking any route of escape. Arya glanced around for something, anything that could be used to defend herself, and spotted a dagger on the belt of one of the soldiers. Without hesitation she lunged at the man, and grabbed his dagger. He stumbled backward, creating a gap she could slip through, but before she could take another step, another soldier was upon her. He put her in a chokehold as he dragged her back into the circle. Knowing she was about to lose consciousness, Arya spun the dagger in her hand and thrust it back with all the strength she could muster. Her aim was true, and she gasped for air.

The reprieve didn't last long as she was taken roughly by the arm and slammed into the ground. Arya barely had time to think as the tip of a sword entered her field of vision. She closed her eyes and looked away, waiting for the pain to come. And it did. The searing pain caused her to cry out, and open her eyes. Without even thinking her hand had come up to meet the sword. Blood ran down her forearm as she gripped the edge of the blade, and fought to remain conscious.

"Do it!" One of the other soldiers yelled.

"Stop." The command cut through the chaos, and all head turned towards the imposing figure of Tywin Lannister. The soldiers immediately sheathed their swords and stood at attention; all except the one bearing down on Arya. Lord Tywin approached the man.

"Put your sword away." He said. Although the order was soft, it was cold, and held the full weight of a death threat. Arya sighed as she finally allowed herself to release the blade, and the soldier withdrew.

"I was not under the impression that any orders were given to kill my cupbearer." Tywin said as he walked slowly around the circle. He stopped when he came to the man wounded by the dagger.

"My lord, she attacked us. We was only defending ourselves." The wounded man said. Tywin didn't even blink.

"I don't need you to tell me what happened. I can see through your lie as easily as that dagger found your gut." He turned back to the rest of the group.

"I take this attempt as a personal insult. Fifty lashes for each of you. And next time, it'll be your heads."

"My lord, what about him? He needs a healer." One soldier gestured to his wounded friend on the ground.

"I'm not wasting my maester's time on the likes of him. If he lives I'll consider it punishment enough." He replied coldly. The soldier could only nod and hurried away. As soon as the last soldier was out of sight Arya whirled to face him.

"I didn't attack them! They're lying. I was only trying to defend myself." Tywin raised an eyebrow in amusement. Even while bleeding, and just nearly escaping death she still had fire in her voice.

"Come." Was all he said, and he lead the way to his tent.

He instructed her to sit while she waited for a healer to tend to her wounds. The healer applied a salve, and bandaged her hand. After Tywin was assured she did not need to be kept overnight, he called for a soldier to escort her to her tent, and to keep a posted guard at night. Arya had been silent the entire time. It was only before she exited his tent that she was able to whisper a quiet thank you over her shoulder.

When she left, Tywin put down the parchment he had been pretending to read. It appeared that her honorable statement earlier about swinging the sword weren't just words. Her knife work, and her wound tonight proved she had the resolve to follow through. This new information told him she could be dangerous, and it only made her all the more fascinating [1].

* * *

The next morning, Tywin received a letter from Robb Stark, accepting his request for a meeting. The Stark hostages were expected to arrive soon, and he ordered them to be brought to him directly. Until their arrival, he busied himself with writing and answering the endless pile of letters. He didn't even have his cupbearer to entertain him, as he had instructed she rest her hand.

"My lord the hostage has arrived." Tywin looked up to see a young girl with fiery red hair enter his tent. He waited for the other one to follow, but no one did.

"Where's the other one?" He asked the guard sharply.

"Sir, there was no one else." He bowed, and quickly went back to his post. Tywin cursed and started writing a new letter furiously. Obviously, Cersei had forgotten to mention the crucial fact that she did not have both Stark daughters. She could be anywhere, or maybe Joffrey had killed her he thought. Either way, now his hand was significantly depleted.

"Lady Stark." He said. He caught her imperceptible flinch, but she raised her head.

"Lady Stark, I was under the impression that I would be receiving you and your sister. Tell me, where is she?" Sansa dropped her eyes to the ground.

"I-I don't know where she is, my lord." He narrowed his eyes. This one wouldn't need much convincing. She was much more docile than his Northern cupbearer. He wondered if she was even a Stark.

"I do not like being lied to." He said quietly.

"Now, I'll ask you again. Where is Arya Stark?"

"I don't know where she, is my lord, honest. I haven't seen her since father was captured. She's not in the castle." The girl began to ramble. "I wouldn't lie to you, sir, I haven't seen her in so long. She might be in the capitol somewhere, but I haven't seen her at all. I barely leave my room as it is, and—"

"Enough." He cut her off before the tears in her eyes led to a full on meltdown. He sat back in his chair, steepling his hands in front of him. It seemed Arya Stark managed to escape the capitol. As long as Robb did not have her, he could still make the negotiations work. After all, he had the most important one, the eldest daughter.

"Let's make sure you understand your roll." He said leaning forward.

"You are a hostage. However, you are still a lady of a great house. Whatever treatment you received in King's Landing will not be done here. You are to stay in your tent unless called upon. You will be guarded around the clock so don't even think about escape." He could tell from the way she held herself that she must have been subject to torment, and perhaps even some mild torture.

"You will be a bargaining chip for peace with your brother. You will not do or say anything unless I give you permission, lest you want to jeopardize your family's lives." He dismissed her, and finished writing a berating letter to Cersei. For now, a letter would have to do. He always seemed to have more pressing matters on his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endnote: [1] Scene was inspired by A Wolf Amongst Lions, Kallypso.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything GOT related.

Tywin approached the grey tents of the Stark encampment. He motioned for the Stark girl to stay outside until he was ready to reveal her, and disappeared behind the tent flap.

"Lord Stark." He addressed the young man on the other side of the table.

"Lord Tywin." Robb said back. The two men stood, gauging each other in silence before the third person made their presence known, by pointedly clearing their throat.

"Lord Tywin, what do you want?" Catelyn Stark did not beat around the bush.

"Lady Stark." Tywin inclined his head towards her.

"I came here today to offer you the opportunity to surrender." Robb Stark frowned.

"Usually, those who ask for negotiations are the ones surrendering, Lord Tywin."

"I am well aware of the conventions of warfare, but usually that side does not have the upper hand." Tywin stood his ground.

"I believe the battle score is in my favor." Robb replied. Tywin simply looked down his nose at Robb.

"Bring in the girl." He called over his shoulder. Sansa Stark stepped into the room accompanied by a Lannister guard. Catelyn Stark gasped, and her son tensed. While they knew Lord Tywin had both daughters they were not emotionally prepared to see either one of them today, and this is what Tywin was banking on. He was playing to Robb Stark's emotions- just as his cupbearer had suggested.

"Now, I have both of your sisters as hostages. I am willing to give you the eldest in return for your surrender." Tywin was bluffing of course. He did not have Arya Stark, but he knew his face would give nothing away. As long as the girl kept quiet.

"Where is Arya?" Robb interjected.

"Do you think I would be so stupid as to bring both girls to this negotiation?" Tywin countered.

"As I was saying. I am willing to give you the eldest in return for your immediate surrender, and sworn fealty to the crown."

"And if I don't?" Robb asked.

"I'm afraid I'll have to kill her if you do not." Tywin said casually. Robb's eyes narrowed, and he slowly walked towards Tywin until they were face to face.

"And if you have to kill her, will you do it yourself?" Tywin snorted in response.

"The one who passes the sentence should swing the sword." Robb interjected quietly.

"If you can threaten to take my sister's life in front of me, and in front of her, you best make sure you can look her in the eye and hear her final words. If you cannot bear to do that then perhaps she doesn't deserved to die [2]." Tywin barely heard anything beyond the first sentence. All the pieces that had been collecting at his feet suddenly fell into place.

 _The one who passes the sentence must swing the sword._ He had last heard them from his cupbearer, and here was Robb Stark repeating the same words. His cupbearer was Arya Stark, the second daughter of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, and sister to the King in the North. After a prolonged silence, he came back to himself and cleared his throat.

"Whether or not she deserves to die is beside the point. If you do not surrender I will kill her. But if you do, she will be returned to you. Once all of your forces have returned to the North, I will return the other. These are my terms. You have two days to decide." He turned and exited the tent, effectively ending the meeting. As they reentered the Lannister camp Tywin felt a renewed sense of control he hadn't had since Joffrey had taken Ned Stark's head.

"Escort Lady Stark back to her tent, and then fetch my cupbearer." Now Tywin Lannister was certain he held all the cards.

* * *

Arya walked as slowly as possible towards Lord Tywin's tent. She didn't know what he wanted, but instinct told her her time was up. Whatever she was about to face, she was going to do it with as much spit, fire, and dignity as possible. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before entering his tent; perhaps for the last time.

As per usual, the Lord Commander was at his desk writing down something very important. Arya waited patiently, watching his every move. She dare not move an inch, and forced herself to keep her gaze level. He liked toying with people; to make them play this waiting game, but she would not succumb to it. Not today.

Finally, he lowered his quill, carefully set aside his parchment, and met her gaze. She didn't prompt him for the reason for his summons, determined to not break the silence. He regarded her for a moment, as if deciding then and there what her fate would be. Then, without warning, he stood up and made his way to the front of his desk. He now stood only a couple feet away, his lean form looming over her.

"We never did have a proper introduction, Lady Arya." He gave a slight bow. She raised her eyebrow.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I am not a lady."

"Not yet." He said as he walked back to his seat.

"What gave me away?" She asked. Tywin smirked, she was ever the student.

"The one who passes the sentence should swing the sword." He said.

"An honorable sentiment. If the Starks say it too often people will forget your house words." Arya nodded thoughtfully. She supposed her father had said it quite often. It was bound to have slipped into his children's vocabulary as well.

"Well, what are you going to do with me?"

"If your brother accepts surrender, and swears fealty to the crown your sister will be returned to him immediately. You are here to ensure that he actually removes his forces. When he does, you will be sent back to Winterfell." She expected as much, although for Tywin Lannister it was an extremely forgiving act towards those who had essentially rebelled against him.

"May I see my sister?" If the deal went south, she realized this may be the last time she saw any of her family members again. He regarded her for another moment.

"I trust you will not do anything to jeopardize your family." It was a statement, but she knew a warning when it was given. She nodded in affirmation, and turned to leave.

"One more thing." He interrupted.

"Do you think your brother will accept my terms?" Arya hesitated.

"I don't know, my lord." She maintained eye contact with him, willing him to understand her sincerity.

"You may go." He said quietly. Arya hurried from the tent. His question still ringing in her ears. Now seeing Sansa seemed more important than ever.

* * *

Sansa was sitting on a small cot in the corner of her tent. The tent was barren, and not very comfortable, but it was leaps and bounds more favorable than being in King's Landing. Even the threat of death did not seem nearly as bad as a living the rest of her life under Joffrey's nose. She had gotten to see her mother and brother again, if but for a moment. It wasn't the worst way to go. And Robb had insisted that she be executed with dignity if it came to it; by Lord Tywin himself. If anything, she could be pleased that she would be the cause of making that man do his own dirty work for once. Suddenly, a commotion outside her tent brought her out of her reverie. Perhaps Robb had already made his decision.

"Let me through." The voice sounded familiar to Sansa.

"You're just his cupbearer, you have no authority here." One of the guards sneered.

"You'll let me through or you can explain to Lord Tywin yourself why I caught you disobeying his orders. I don't care if you believe me or not, but do you really want to take the chance?" The men's shuffling feet indicated their discomfort and uncertainty. Taking advantage of their hesitation, Arya swept past them and into the tent.

"Arya." Sansa whispered. Arya gave her first genuine smile in a long time. Sansa leapt from her seat and threw her arms around her, and Arya's arms automatically came up to return the hug. Growing up in Winterfell, they were never terribly close. Not as close as Arya had been to Jon. They were usually fighting, or criticizing each other, but in that moment all of their childish feuds became irrelevant and they relished the warmth of family.

"Arya, why are you here? Just yesterday, Lord Tywin was interrogating me on your whereabouts. If he finds you here he'll—"

"That time has long passed." Arya interrupted her.

"I just came back from his tent. He knows who I am now. But don't worry, Robb will agree to surrender. He would never leave you in the hands of the Lannisters." But Sansa was shaking her head.

"You weren't there, Arya. When Lord Tywin threatened my life, Robb only asked him if he would be the one to do it." Arya gripped her sister's arms.

"Look at me." She demanded. Sansa turned her wide, frightened eyes to Arya.

"Robb was only calling his bluff. Nothing will happen." There was a newly kindled ferocity in Arya's eyes.

"I won't let anything happen. Promise." Sansa finally nodded. Assured that her sister had calmed down, Arya gave her one more swift hug, and left. She didn't want to overstep Tywin's lenience. The last thing she needed was to provoke his anger at yet another Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endnote: [2] Quote from A Game of Thrones, George R. R. Martin, Ch 4


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa found herself woken before the dawn, and following the Lannister Lord Commander on horseback. Whether she lived or died, today was her last day as a hostage. She kept her face impassive, and her chin up. They would get no weakness from her.

The Lannister party stopped a measured distance away from the Stark entourage. Robb Stark motioned for his men to stay back as he approached Lord Tywin alone, and handed his scroll to a squire with the official Stark seal.

"My formal surrender, and sworn oath to the crown." said Robb. After reading it, Lord Tywin nodded in response, and motioned for his guards to move aside. Sansa dismounted from her horse and walked gracefully across the gap, trying to remain dignified and not as if her whole body were trembling. Robb quickly got off his horse and enveloped her in his arms as soon as she arrived.

"Lord Stark." Tywin inclined his head before turning his horse around and heading back to his own camp. Sansa didn't bother to watch him go.

As Lord Tywin made his way back to the Lannister camp he was careful to travel the exact route he had come. There was a particular tree he wanted to pass by. As they came upon an old, gnarly tree his mouth turned up slightly in amusement.

"Lady Arya." He said in greeting, as he passed. He heard a quiet gasp, followed by the rustling of tree branches, a yelp, and a thud. Without missing a beat, Lord Tywin signaled for the spare horse. By the time Arya had righted herself, a squire and a horse were waiting for her. She grumbled to herself, but mounted the horse and followed the Lannisters without much fuss.

Tywin had noticed her on the way to treat with Robb Stark, but didn't bother outing her then. He knew she must have been worried for her sister's fate, so he let her watch. She possessed stealth, he'd admit, but still not enough to fool his experienced eyes. Although, with time and practice he had no doubt she would be able to give him the slip as well.

They did not stay for much longer after Robb's surrender. It took a week for the Northern army to begin its trek home. As soon as every tent was collapsed, and the last soldier was on the move, Tywin ordered for the Lannister army to move out. The Lord Commander and his personal guard would head back to King's Landing, while his brother, Kevan, would oversee the Lannister army's travels back to Casterly Rock. Tywin was anxious to get back. As Hand of the King, and the true power behind the crown, he'd been away for far too long.

Arya received a horse this time, and Lord Tywin allowed her to continue dressing like a boy until they reached the capitol.

"It would only cause me trouble if I paraded a Northern Lady down the King's road." He said. She had guards tailing her the whole time, but she reveled in making them hasten to catch up with her whenever she pleased. Arya counted herself lucky that the trip did not consist of any castle visits. She did not want to be a proper lady until absolutely necessary.

The party kept a steady pace, only stopping to eat and sleep. This surprised Arya at first. She had expected the head Lion to live in excess, but Lord Tywin lived in a world of necessity. He was powerful and imposing; sedulous, and stoic. His status and mannerisms made him seem older than he really was, and experience had blessed him with early grey hairs, but physically he never had trouble keeping up the rough pace of travel. Unlike other high lords she'd met he never complained about the state of their accommodations, and was not overly fastidious about proper etiquette during the journey.

In fact, he was surprisingly attentive towards his men. They had spent enough days on the road together for Arya to have plenty of time to observe him. He rarely called for breaks in riding, and only did so if he noticed some of his men struggling; he made sure all of his men had sheltered accommodations, and always ate last. Arya was positive that if anyone were to question him about his actions he would have a logical reason for every decision, but she decided it was all pretense. Tywin Lannister may be feared throughout the kingdoms as a ruthless Lion, but that was cultivated, not an inherent part of his personality.

* * *

Arya did not particularly like her new quarters. They were the exact opposite of her room in Winterfell. It was too airy, light, and high up in a tower. It didn't feel sturdy enough. The stones were obviously imported, and didn't have the same feeling of earthiness that Winterfell did. The fabric on the bed was silky and smooth, a drastic difference from the heavy furs used up North. She supposed furs wouldn't have done well with the warmer weather, but it was hard to get used to all the same.

The one thing she didn't mind, however, was the view from the large window that occupied the entirety of one wall. She could see a good portion of the castle grounds, and spent much of her first days back watching the comings and goings of the castle's inhabitants. She wasn't going to be in the capitol for long, and she figured the less attention she drew to herself the better.

There was also plenty of time for her to practice her stealth; skirting the halls and learning to avoid the guards became an entertaining pastime, but even with that she quickly grew bored. Now that she was no longer posing as a servant, there was nothing for her to do.

Her boredom finally lead her to the tower of the Hand. It was one of the few places in the castle she knew well. When her father was Hand to King Robert she had visited him often. It was strange to walk up the stairs, knowing that she was going to see Tywin Lannister rather than her father. She didn't even know what she would say once she was there, but her feet seemed to move of their own accord until she found herself meeting Lord Tywin's gaze. The door was not closed as she had anticipated, so she simply stood outside the doorway, gathering her bearings.

"Lady Arya." He said. She clenched her jaw in frustration. He stubbornly persisted in using her ridiculous title [3]. She hated when people used it. It always sounded mocking, like they knew how torturous it was for her to be denied the things easily given to men. But she knew it was futile to argue the point with him. Formality ran through Lord Tywin's bones, and the name fell as easily from his lips as his breaths [3]. She walked into the room and sat down in the chair across from him without waiting for an invitation.

"I'm bored." She declared. At her statement he stopped writing and looked up at her, one eyebrow raised.

"You're bored." He repeated.

"Yes. I'm not your cupbearer any longer. There's nothing for me to do. How long until I can go home?" The Hand went back to writing, and Arya pushed down her reckless desire to snatch the parchment from his desk. He was always working, and he used it to hide behind when he didn't want to bother with someone. He rarely shed his mask though she knew there was a man beneath the facade. She had seen it during their travels, and it irked her now that it had all but disappeared, as if it had been a figment of her imagination [3].

"Peace is a fragile thing, and yet it has been the downfall of many rulers." He had stopped writing, and was now giving her his full attention.

"If peace is the downfall of a ruler then pride is the downfall of peace." She responded, thinking that Lord Tywin, too, made many of his decisions based on pride.

"Combating an individual's pride has proven difficult in the past." He continued. Arya recognized this game he was so fond of. It took her back to her days at Harrenhal, usually after a war council meeting. He would tease her with droplets of information and make certain that she pieced together the clues in precisely the manner he wished. In many cases the answers were obvious, but they never failed to make her think, to help her understand the patterns the Hand's mind drew upon. No doubt the confusion was intentional; hiding his expectations was yet another part of the dance [3].

"The true power rarely wields the crown." She countered.

"But, in my experience, the blood of kin trumps the blood of the battlefield." He gave a single nod; satisfied and pleased. The game was over; unprecedentedly short, simple, and out of place. There was no critical thinking to be had, no lessons to be learned, just a straightforward conversation that seemed to serve no purpose; it was as if he had simply used her to confirm something he already knew. Arya left the tower confused, feeling as if she had missed an integral step in his complex dance [3].

She spent her days in King's Landing much the same. She snuck around trying to remain unseen, and to see all. The capitol was brimming with secrets. She listened to petty gossip, and whispered words she was sure contained a hidden meaning. And when she got bored with that she would meander up to the tower of the Hand, where she quickly learned to read him. His signs weren't as easy to catch as others, but she learned to tell when he was not in the mood to converse, when he had something else on his mind, and when he was content. On his worst days, he would shut his door completely, prohibiting any visitors.

She didn't know why she sought out his company; maybe he was just a familiar face, or maybe his games helped keep her mind off of other things. But, what really puzzled her was that Lord Tywin seemed to tolerate, even accept, her presence. She had assumed that once he realized she was a Stark, he would want nothing to do with her. Instead she swore he was kinder to her than when she first met him— if he could be considered kind at all.

* * *

Arya was taking a stroll through the castle gardens one afternoon, amusing herself with all of the exotic plants she'd never seen in the North. As she moved to smell a particularly vibrant colored rose, she heard footsteps approaching.

"Lord Varys." Arya greeted the lord. He gave a slight bow and continued to walk with her through the garden.

"I'm honored you know me, my Lady." He said.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner."

"You are the most mysterious, and yet most well-known man in Westeros, but I have never seen you in the gardens before." Her reply was also a question.

"Yes, well, there is something I was hoping you could do for me." He confessed. She raised an eyebrow at him, curiosity written on her face.

"I have received a letter I hoped you might deliver to the Hand." He reached into his robe and pulled out a sealed scroll. Arya's suspicions were aroused, and she did not immediately take the proffered parchment.

"What does it say?"

"My lady, the letter is sealed." Varys replied. She cast him another doubtful look.

"Have you lost your edge, Lord Varys?" He gave a small chuckle.

"You are very astute. No, I'm afraid it brings some disturbing news."

"And what makes you think I would want to be the bearer of bad news?"

"I don't think anyone wants to bring Lord Tywin bad news, but I thought you might make it more bearable. He is quite fond of you after all." She could feel him watching her, waiting for a reaction, but she had nothing to say to that. It shouldn't have surprised her that her visits to the tower had not gone unnoticed by the castle's other inhabitants. Arya took the letter from Varys.

"If I wind up dead, I'll haunt you for the rest of your days." She warned. Varys smiled, and gave another bow as she left him in the gardens.

Instead of going straight to the tower of the Hand, she meandered the halls. She took her time, pondering what possible news would be so bad that even Varys didn't want to relate the message. She also reflected on his reasoning for asking her in the first place. It was strange to think that Lord Tywin could be fond of anyone; they say he was cold even to his own children, so what did he see in her? She shook her head, deciding it wasn't worth dwelling on.

Arya entered his office and waited patiently for him to finish his he looked up, he frowned, immediately catching on to her serious demeanor.

"What wrong?" He asked. She walked slowly to his desk and placed the letter in front of him.

"From Varys, my Lord." She watched his face closely as his eyes rapidly scanned the paper, and she took an inadvertent step back as his features darkened, and his eyes hardened. He crumpled the paper in anger and threw it on the desk before stalking over to the window. Arya glanced at him with worry, and took the note from his desk. Her eyes narrowed as she read it.

The Karstark's have ambushed the Kingslayer in protest of Robb Stark's forced surrender. He has been released and is heading back to King's Landing, but I doubt Lord Tywin will still want him as his heir.

Arya's eyes widened. The Karstark's actions could be seen as an act of rebellion, and throw the kingdoms into war again. And, if she was reading it correctly, Jamie Lannister was now unable to bear children. Lord Tywin was still glaring out the window, and for once she didn't know what to say. But, she would not let him start another war. Robb had nothing to do with this act, and she would not let him pay for it.

"My lord." She began. He did not move from his spot, and gave no indication he had heard her, but she pressed on.

"My brother will make sure the Karstarks pay for this. This was also an act of treason again him. I don't think another war would be wise." He turned swiftly and stalked towards her. His rage was palpable, but she held her ground.

"No need to go to war? Is my son and heir's mutilation not a cause to go to war?" He thundered, but Arya glared right back at him.

"Ask for their heads if it pleases you. I'm sure my brother will grant your request gladly, but the seven kingdoms are still recovering from the last war. They will not take kindly to another."

"Who are you to presume to know politics and warfare, girl?"

"It doesn't take a genius to realize the realm will not benefit, and the King's standing with the kingdom's nobles is tenuous at best after executing my father." She snapped back. If he wanted to fight, she'd give it to him. Her anger towards the Karstarks, and her worry for Robb gave her strength, and not even Tywin Lannister would move her today.

He didn't respond, but his eyes held her gaze, as if searching for weakness, for doubt. Finally, seeing none he broke contact and sat down at his desk. Arya let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. It appeared she had curbed his rage for now. Tywin expected her to leave after their heated exchange, but Arya remained where she was. He gave her a pointed look.

"I want to help." She said.

"I am invested just as much as you are in maintaining peace, perhaps even more. I'll do whatever it takes."

"Whatever it takes?" He asked.

"Anything." Her voice was firm, and he could see the resolve in her eyes.

"Good." He said.

After Arya left, he immediately poured himself a glass of wine, for the nerves. His anger had abated somewhat, and she had helped redirect his energy towards planning the next move. She promised her cooperation, and that certainly gave him an advantage. As he pondered the girl, a plan started to form in his mind. It wasn't ideal— the whole situation was a fiasco that almost ruined his house's future— but it was necessary; for the sake of peace, and the sake of the Lannister name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endnote: [3] Adapted from The Price of Practicality, Ozma


	5. Chapter 5

Robb Stark was furious. Absolutely furious. They hadn't even made it into Northern territory yet, and now it was near impossible that they would have peace with the Lannisters. Robb halted all travel when he got word of what happened. Now he was just waiting for a letter, or Tywin Lannister himself to show up at his door to execute him. He could live with his own demise; it had been his own lack of forethought that had lead to this, but he was afraid for Arya who was still in the capitol. For her sake, he did not dare continue North. He was certain the only form of repayment the Hand would accept were heads, and on this note Robb agreed with him.

"I would suggest executing them yourself, and soon." His mother advised, and she was right. That order needed to come from him, and him alone. Otherwise he would just look like a Lannister lapdog, and the other Northern lords would lose all respect for him. He called his guards to rally the men. There was no time like the present.

"Lord Karstark. You stand on trial for the torture of Jamie Lannister, thereby breaking the terms of peace. Do you deny it?" Lord Karstark scowled at Robb.

"I do not deny it. We were the only house strong enough to not go down without a fight after you surrendered. The North should never have to bow to the South."

"You pledged yourself to House Stark, and you disobeyed." Robb replied gravely.

"What you've done is not a sign of strength, but a weakness. A strong lord looks beyond the battlefield; he thinks of the future of his family, his people, and the North above all else. Today, you foolishly jeopardized that future." The rest of the lords looked on solemnly. Their silence was agreement enough.

"Lord Karstark. I, Robb of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North, sentence you and all men involved to die." His aim was true, and the cut was clean. After all of the offending men had been dealt with Robb turned to the rest of his bannermen.

"As the Warden of the North, I must deal with treachery accordingly. However, I recognize that not all of House Karstark supported the act of their lord, which is why the rest of the men are still standing." Robb gazed at his men, making sure he had their full attention.

"Harold Karstark." He called. A young man stepped forward, and knelt before Robb.

"My lord. My father was good to us, but he made a mistake, and he payed for it. I will do everything in my power to uphold the Karstark name, and I pledge my house to yours."

"Rise, Harold Karstark, Lord of Karhold." He went over to the young man, and addressed him personally.

"You have a big task ahead of you, my lord. You must reunify your house. The Karstarks are a pillar of the North. I'm counting on you." The new lord stood straighter, and nodded seriously. Robb gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before taking his leave. His second order of business was to send a message to Lord Tywin.

* * *

Tywin sat back in his chair after reading Robb's letter in its entirety. At least the boy had the brains to cut out the dissension immediately. Now he knew at least one of his demands would be met. It also appeared that his son had a Stark guard personally escorting him to back to King's Landing. It was a small assurance, but it did show that he understood the gravity of his bannermen's actions, and that he was willing to do most anything to appease him. Tywin had the Stark boy right where he wanted. The only hurdle left was to inform Arya of his new plan. It was not a conversation he was looking forward to having, but he was not one to try and delay the inevitable. He sent a guard to fetch her.

Arya found him pacing his study, something he rarely did.

"You asked for me, my lord." He turned to look at her, gesturing for her to close the door behind her.

"You said you were willing to do anything to help fix this mess."

"I did." She affirmed. He started to pace again.

"The two most effective ways to create and maintain peace are violence, and marriage." He glanced towards her again, but her face gave nothing away. He cursed silently to himself; she was going to make him spell it out.

"As you so eloquently put it earlier, the blood of kin trumps the blood of the battlefield."

"And who will I wed?" She asked, seemingly unperturbed. She knew that an alliance between the proud houses of Lannister and Stark would best be evoked through marriage. Finally, he stopped pacing and looked right at her.

"Me." He answered. A hint of a shadow crossed her face, only to be immediately replaced with a slight frown.

"Are you prepared for the rumors it will invoke about Jamie?" He dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand.

"Robb Stark does not want that news getting out any more than I do, and Jamie is still part of the Kingsguard. After all these years he still refuses to leave. People shouldn't be terribly surprised."

"He's not your only son." Tywin's aura immediately darkened. She knew it had been risky to say, but now was the time to lay all the cards on the table.

"He barely holds the name Lannister, and will never inherit Casterly Rock." Tywin spit out vehemently. His feelings were clear, and Arya left it at that. She turned to her own thoughts. There really wasn't a better option. Marriage would immediately elevate the Starks' power and influence— something they desperately needed to restabilize the North. And, if she herself was the bridge, she would be able to personally ensure the peace between their families remained for an entire generation at least.

"Very well, I accept." Tywin's eyebrows rose slightly. He had been prepared to spend the better part of a day trying to convince her. But, he supposed she'd been running through scenarios as well, and nothing else he'd come up with had been adequate.

"Good. I'd like to request that you write of this news to your brother. He will take it better if you tell him."

"Certainly. If that's all, my lord?" He nodded, and she took her leave.

* * *

Arya had been attempting to write a letter to Robb for some time now. The evidence was scattered about her room in the form of crumpled parchment. With a frustrated growl she tossed yet another unfinished letter over her shoulder. She was no good at this sort of thing, and wished Sansa were here. Her sister was much better at the flowery writing used to sway lords and ladies. Eventually, she settled on a small paragraph; short and to the point. It wasn't elegant, but it sounded like her, and she supposed that had been Tywin's initial intention.

_Dear Robb,_

_News of the Karstarks has reached King's Landing. It's not good, but I think we all agree that peace is a priority. Lord Tywin is satisfied with your handling of the traitors, but it's not enough given what happened to his son. I have agreed to marry Lord Tywin to solidify the alliance between the Starks and Lannisters. I made this decision on my own. It will be good for the North to have powerful Southern allies. Please let me do my part._

_Your sister,_

_Arya Stark_

Arya felt a weight being lifted off her shoulders as she saw the raven fly off. On the walk back to her room, she thought about how her family would react to the news. Robb wouldn't like it, but he'd accept it. Her mother would cry, and Sansa would probably be horrified. She despised Joffrey and now she would be related to the monster, albeit distantly. Arya then tried to imagine what her father would have said. She remembered he had once promised she would marry a high lord. She snorted, and wondered what he would think of that promise now.

Arya's thoughts then turned to Tywin Lannister. Every time the words 'betrothed' or 'future husband' flashed through her mind she cringed. She had never pictured herself married. That had always been Sansa's dream. And yet, the most curious thing was that the idea of Tywin Lannister himself did not scare her. He was still intimidating, but he had ceased to frighten her long ago.

Maybe she had been in the South for too long, and it had addled her brain. Keeping the company of Lannisters for so many months had definitely changed some of her view points. Good and evil, friend and foe were no longer easily separated into two categories. Everything was made up of shades of grey, even her. Her time with Lord Tywin had shown her that even her dear father, honorable as he was, may have inadvertently contributed to a less than honorable future. These revelations would have rattled her when she was younger, but now it was somewhat comforting. It had always worried her that she would never be able to live up to her father's expectations. Now, she knew the way forward was not to try and be him, but to learn and rise above him.

Arya slipped silently through the halls. Her practice had improved her stealth, and now she could move silently without even thinking. However, even for all her training she was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she wasn't quick enough to avoid colliding with the man that had appeared out of nowhere, and she stumbled backward. Ironically, her clumsiness is what saved her. As she fell, the light bounced off of the dagger in the stranger's hand, and she became aware of the danger. Their collision had also caused the man to take a few steps back in surprise. He had not heard anyone approaching as he crept around the corner.

The hesitation in the man's focus, and the space Arya had created allowed her to regain her bearings. Instead of backing away or running, she lunged. Clasping his knife hand in hers, she twisted his wrist and dug her nails into the pressure point between his thumb and forefinger. The man yelped, and the dagger clattered to the floor. There was a mad scramble to retrieve the weapon. He would win in a battle of strength, and Arya knew she wouldn't be able to pull the same trick on him again, so she changed tactics and went for his most vulnerable parts. First, she kneed him between the legs. As he instinctually bent over, she jumped on his back and clung on with her legs. Her teeth went for his ear, and her hands and nails went for his eyes. Self preservation kicked in and the man forgot all about the dagger, simply trying his best to throw her off.

Once Arya felt blood between her fingers she shoved him away. On instinct he scrambled forwards away from her vicious nails, his hands wiping the blood from his eyes. But Arya had already picked up the dagger, and moved behind him. He stopped his blubbering when he felt the cool steel against his throat.

"Who sent you." She growled in his ear. He only whimpered. She had already guessed by his garb, and the fact that she wasn't dead yet that this was not a professional hit man. In fact, by all standards it was a very sloppy job. She pressed the blade against his throat.

"I'm not known for my patience."

"I-I don't know his name." He sputtered.

"Liar." She whispered. Arya applied more pressure, piercing the first layer of skin.

"I-I swear it! I was in the brothel, and the lord promised me riches if I helped him, honest!" He gasped.

"Good." She said, and then slit his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endnotes: scene was inspired by A Wolf Amongst Lions, Kallypso.


	6. Chapter 6

"The body has been examined, my Lord." Littlefinger started. A guard had raised the alarm upon finding a dead man in the hall, and after the castle had been thoroughly searched Lord Tywin called a small council meeting.

"There were no weapons on his person, but his garb was of Northern style. Maybe the Starks aren't as keen on peace as we thought." Littlefinger's tone was open, but he did nothing to hide the gleam in his eye.

"That's not enough to implicate them." Lord Tywin interrupted. He was not in the mood to watch Petyr Baelish revel in his cunning and the sound of his own voice.

"Was there anything else?" He asked, turning pointedly to Varys.

"Nothing yet, my Lord, but I will report to you directly if I find anything."

"Very well." Tywin stood up, signaling the end of the meeting.

This time Tywin closed his door behind him upon entering his office. Even though the guards reported a clean sweep of the castle, precaution never hurt anyone. As he sat down, a figure stepped out where the shadow of the door had been. He glanced up and immediately rose from his chair.

"Arya." For a brief moment concern flashed across his face as he started towards her, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. Her hand was covered in blood, as she gripped the dagger tightly. Arya glance up at him, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. Despite the situation, her mind took note that it was the first time he had said her name; no titles or formalities attached. Just her name. She smiled slightly at the thought. Her soft expression slowed Tywin's advance towards her.

"I'm unharmed." She quickly assured him, although her hands still shook slightly. The man was her first deliberate kill after all. Sure, she had stabbed that Lannister soldier, but it was out of self defense. Now Arya was better, more skilled, and she could have taken the man prisoner if she'd been so inclined. Yet instinct had told her that a dead man was more trustworthy than a live one.

"But I'm afraid the assassin didn't fare as well." He was in front of her now, and brought up her left hand to examine it. Indeed, it was not her blood that coated her arm, but the dagger is what really caught his eye.

"Where did you get the dagger?" He asked.

"From the assassin, but it wasn't his." Arya paused, waiting to see his reaction.

"Valyrian steel is hard to come by." He agreed. She nodded. His response was favorable, and she hoped it would make him more receptive to what she told him next.

"I've seen this blade before. It was used by another to try and kill my brother Bran." Tywin was silent, so she pressed on.

"I think the same person was behind both attacks, and I think they're trying to start another war between the Starks and Lannisters." Tywin let out a sigh and walked back to his chair. Arya followed him, stopping at the front of his desk.

"The small council reported he looked like a Northerner." Arya bristled at his words.

"The North would never _do_ something like this. It's not our way." Her eyes were alight in defiance, and Tywin noted that she still had the dagger.

"Your suspicions align with my own." He said finally.

"Did the assassin tell you anything? Were you able to get him to talk?" His unruffled response quieted her, and she realized his comment wasn't meant to point any blame. Arya nodded slowly, trying to remember exactly what the assassin confessed.

"He didn't give a name, only that he had been in a brothel when someone offered him the job." She recalled.

"And, based on the Valyrian steel, it must be someone of relatively high rank." At the mention of a brothel, Tywin's mind began to race. A high quality dagger, a brothel, war…chaos. There was only one person who he could think of that fit all those categories, but he needed to be certain before any move could be made.

"Arya, I'll be back." He strode purposefully out the door and down the steps. Uncharacteristically, Arya made no move to follow him. She had been watching him and, had recognized a spark in his eyes. Deciding to make herself comfortable while she awaited his return, she positioned herself behind his desk. After her latest encounter she wanted to have a solid wall behind her back, and a clear view of the entrance, just in case.

Arya heard their footsteps first, and when the door started to creak, she unconsciously stepped further into the shadow of the chair. Lord Tywin walked in followed by Varys. Without breaking step, Tywin's gaze swept across the room until he met her gaze. He inclined his head slightly, but made no comment. Instead he continued to his chair, acting as if she was meant to be there.

"My Lord." Varys said with a bow. His eyes flickered to his right, taking in Arya's presence.

"My Lady." He added with another little bow.

"Lord Varys, you are charged with knowing many secrets, and people of this Kingdom. I wonder if you can now enlighten us with a bit more."

"I would be honored, my Lord." He replied as smooth as ever. Varys gave no outward indication that he'd noticed Tywin refer to himself and Arya as a single entity, but he filed the information away to ponder it later. Without needing to be asked, Arya stepped out from behind the chair and placed the dagger on the desk. Tywin gestured with his hand, an invitation for Varys to step closer.

"I assume you're asking for an owner?" Varys leaned across the desk to examine the weapon. The blood on the dagger was not overt, but its presence suggested that it had been in contact with the dead man found earlier that day.

"Why, this dagger belongs to the Master of Coin." He said decisively. Varys would not be sad to see his long time colleague go. They were by no means friends, and the realm would be better off without him. In fact, it all tied up rather nicely.

Lord Tywin exhaled, implying his suspicions had been confirmed. He nodded his thanks to Varys, who bowed and took his leave. When it was just the two of them Arya finally walked around to face him.

"What now?" She asked, picking up the dagger and twirling it in her hand.

"I will handle the rest. I do not want you going after him by yourself. Do you understand?" She looked up at him rather guiltily. He'd read her like a book.

"As you wish." She shrugged and turned to take her leave.

"Not yet." He said. She tilted her head to the side, indicating her curiosity. Tywin stood up from his chair and walked to a table on the far side of the room where a piece of brown cloth lay, hiding something under its layers. He set it on his desk, and his mouth twitched in amusement as Arya inadvertently moved in for a closer look. He stepped back and gestured towards the cloth, and Arya gasped quietly as the contents were revealed.

Laying on the desk, glimmering as brightly as the day she received it was needle. She picked it up, and ran her hand over the blade. It had not lost any of its edge either. Tywin watched her reaction with satisfaction, seemingly content to watch her reacquaint herself with the weapon.

"How did you know it was mine?" She finally asked him.

"I saw you eyeing it back at Harrenhal, and it obviously didn't belong to the man who had it." He said nonchalantly.

"I'm surprised you kept it. Pleased, but surprised." She said.

"It was too small for any of the soldiers to wield, and it would have been a shame to discard such craftsmanship."

"Jon gave it to me before we left Winterfell. He was the first one who didn't think my interest in weapons was silly." She didn't know why she was telling him this; it just felt right.

"Given today's events, and as the future Lady of Casterly Rock, it's high time it was returned to you. And keep the dagger if you like." He said dismissively. Tywin may not have said it outright, but his actions spoke volumes. He trusted her. It surprised Arya that his trust actually meant something, and a strange feeling she could not name overcame her. She took needle and carefully slid it into her belt, gave him a brief, genuine smile, and slipped out the door.

Littlefinger disappeared quietly. There were some hushed rumors around his sudden absence, but nothing more. The Hand took the opportunity to announce not one, but two weddings. The first was the marriage of Joffrey Baratheon to Margaery Tyrell. The second was their own, which would take place a fortnight later. The news spread quickly throughout the kingdoms, and successfully overshadowed any whispers or attention drawn to Lord Baelish. Arya was not surprised by Tywin's play, but the thought of their imminent wedding made it all the more daunting. There was no going back now. [1]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endnote: [1] Scene was inspired by A Wolf Amongst Lions, Kallypso


	7. Chapter 7

Jamie Lannister stole through the winding, crowded streets of the city. His grubby clothes, matted unwashed hair, and the slump of his shoulders ensured not a second glance was spared. He lead them to a unpopulated side entrance of the castle. Neither he or his Northern guard wanted the publicity of the main gate. The men saw him safely into the castle, and then took their leave. He didn't blame them for not wanting to linger. Even with the truce, there was a history of tension between the North and South.

It had taken a bit to persuade the sentries that he was who he said he was, but they were finally swayed by his sword— which would not have belonged to a common man— and the threat of the Lannister name. Once inside, his first course of action was to find Maester Pycelle. After all that he had endured, it would be a shame to succumb to infection now. Without the clink of his tell-tale armor he was able to reach his destination unnoticed.

Medically cleared, and finally looking court presentable, he had no further excuses to delay finding Cersei any longer. Standing still was impossible as he waited for her to grant him entrance to her chambers. He didn't know how he'd be received after his long absence, nor did he look forward to telling her about his injury. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he was admitted to her room.

"Jamie." Was all he heard before a mass of golden hair filled his vision. He held her close, breathing in her scent. Finally they pulled back and studied one another.

"I'm sorry I took so long." He said finally. She shook her head.

"It doesn't matter, you're here now. At least some things can go back to normal." He tried not to wince at what she was implying, but didn't feel up to ruining her warm welcome now. There would be plenty of time for that later.

"What has changed since I've been away. How is father?" He pressed, hoping to change the subject. Cersei's face grew dark and she let go of him, opting to pace the room.

"It was just announced that not only will Joffrey be marrying the Tyrell whore, but our father is to take the Stark bitch as his wife." She snarled. He assumed by Tyrell his sister meant Margaery Tyrell, the eldest daughter of Highgarden, which in all fairness was a worthy match for the King, and a solid political move as well.

The news of their father would have surprised him greatly if he hadn't been the cause. He was sure his father would not be very happy to see him, blaming his own predicament on his son's inability to use his head properly and stay out of trouble. Now, he had ensured his Lord father's blessing to stay in the Kingsguard unless he wanted Westeros to replace Kingslayer with eunuch.

 _That was what you've always wanted isn't?_ He thought bitterly to himself. Jamie could have easily continued down the rabbit hole if Cersei's tirade hadn't interrupted his thoughts.

"Jamie you must come with me. Together we can bring father out of this madness, and put the Stark girl in her place once and for all." She grabbed his arm and made to walk out the door, but Jamie stopped. He was not so keen to see his father just yet.

"What are you doing?" Her surprise was quickly replaced with suspicion at his action.

"Unless you somehow helped this match. You were with Northmen for some time…" She trailed off, but Jamie shook himself.

"No." He said.

"You're right, let's go talk to father." Jamie decided it would be easier to have another witness during the reunion. He steeled himself for the next onslaught of unpleasantness and marched confidently out the door, not daring to look behind him to see if his sister was following.

* * *

Arya was prowling behind his desk. Her preferred spot when they were alone in the solar. She didn't want anyone storming in while her back was turned. Her close encounter with the assassin had increased her awareness of all her surroundings. The presence of Needle on her belt also did much to assuage her mind. For his part, Tywin didn't seem to mind his new shadow. She was quiet, and he often forgot she was there, and it gave him extra ears and eyes during meetings. He also found her presence seemed to set his visitors on edge. They rarely saw her at first glance, and her apparent materialization out of the shadows often startled them. And finally, as the future Lady of Casterly Rock now was the perfect time for her to learn how best to deal with these people, and Tywin would not settle for any other teacher than himself.

The Lord and future Lady were talking in low voices when the sound of two pairs of footsteps caught their attention. Their conversation stopped, and the door burst open to reveal an angry Cersei and a reluctant Jamie at her heels. Cersei swept into the middle of the room, breathing heavily from her walk to the tower. She glanced up and caught Arya's eye. Her face darkened and she took an angry step forward.

"What's she doing here?" She hissed. The sudden movement didn't sit well with Arya and she instinctually took a step forward, emerging from the shadow of the chair. She placed one hand on the hilt of her sword, and the other on the desk next to Tywin, as if staking her claim. Cersei stole a quick glance at her father who did nothing despite his close proximity to the girl. The anger and jealously rolled off Cersei in waves. Tywin's eyes bore into his daughters', not the least bit affected by her attempt at intimidation [4].

"I think the real question is, why was she not here in the first place?" His voice was cold, and Cersei had to do everything not to flinch. In her rage she'd forgotten that particular issue, and why she had been avoiding her father until now.

"Well she's here now, and the guards can take her away. There is no need for a Stark traitor here." Cersei said.

"My father was the traitor, as you like to remind everyone." Arya interjected, no longer able to keep quiet. Golden waves fanned out in anger as Cersei honed in on a new target.

"Yes, the oh so honorable Ned Stark turned out to be a traitor to the realm. How embarrassing." She sneered. The knuckles of Arya's hand went white, as she gripped the hilt of her sword.

"My father lived by honor, and he died for it, but I won't make the same mistake."

"Is that a threat?" Cersei asked, her tone mocking and her eyes full of contempt.

"A promise." Arya said darkly. Had anyone been studying Tywin's eyes they might have seen a flash of approval, but no one was looking and his face remained as stoic as ever.

Before the argument could go any further Tywin intervened, ordering his children to sit. Jamie calmly obliged, but Cersei stood there defiantly until she could no longer stand to hold her father's gaze. Finally, she relented and plopped down in the seat next to Jamie with an air of petulance.

"This marriage will go forward, and there is nothing you will do about it. After your son's mindless behavior, and Jamie's unfortunate condition I had no choice but to take it upon myself to make peace with the North and ensure the future of House Lannister. Neither of you have ever shown any desire to uphold the legacy, and I was a fool to think it would be different this time around." He glared at each of his children in turn.

Jamie was staring determinedly at his hands, but froze when his father mentioned his condition. It was the worst possible time for his injury to be brought up, and he cast a quick glance at his sister, wondering if she had caught on to the words. Cersei was glaring out the window. Much to Jamie's relief her next question proved she hadn't been listening to a word.

"Why do you give her a sword? A traitor and hostage shouldn't have weapons. She can't be trusted." Her childish comment made Tywin want to sigh, but years of discipline suppressed it.

"She has done more to prove herself than either of you; seeing the value and necessity of peace between our houses while you adamantly threw us into war." His voice had risen slightly, and even though it still wasn't much above normal levels it was the equivalent of a yell from Tywin Lannister.

"I'd like to see you try and control him." She muttered under her breath.

"I will." The absolute certainty in his voice drove Cersei over the edge, and she proceeded to storm out of the room. Jamie hastily stood up to chase after her, but stilled as his father called his name.

"I expect your condition to remain a secret; a rumor if it must." His tone held no malice, but it was an order all the same. Jamie didn't turn around, but his silence was acquiescence enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endnote: [4] The Lion's Share, Startwithsparks, Ch 2 (AO3)


	8. Chapter 8

The royal wedding and all its frivolities soon descended upon the castle. Guests from all over the seven kingdoms flocked to King's landing, and the halls were filled with Lords and ladies. There were a few notable exceptions, like the absence of any Northern representative. However, Tywin did not take offense, and was glad for their low profile.

The arrival of the Tyrells brought an influx of roses of all kinds; real ones for the gardens, embroidered ones on clothes, and even rose perfume hung in the air. Arya tried to steer clear of all the fuss, finding solace in her sword practice, and in the tower of the Hand. The wedding expenses were already agreed upon, leaving Tywin free from the tedious job of actually planning the wedding.

Due to their own impending wedding, Tywin set himself to the task of brining his future wife up to speed on the Westerlands and its politics. He appreciated Arya's sharp mind, but the devil was always in the details. Arya knew the North like the back of her hand; all the houses, the geography, and trade markets, but Maester Lewin had only given her a brief overview of the other Kingdoms.

Tywin assigned her volumes of Westerland and Lannister history, and afterward he would quiz her. Arya found herself actually enjoying her lessons, which was more than she could say for the studies of her childhood. Tywin allowed her to ask questions and argue with him as long as her comments were well thought out; in fact he seemed to expect it. He also proposed different scenarios that she would have to reason through. Arya tried not to think about the fact that she was becoming more of a proper Lady every day, but instead reasoned that a knowledgable and active Lady was another way to break the barrier put on women.

The day of the wedding, Arya was roused early from her sleep and held hostage in her room by her chambermaids. They insisted that her hair would take an hour at least, and that they had been ordered to make sure she didn't do anything unruly in her dress. It was pure torture. They pulled and twisted until her scalp felt raw. Then, they proceeded to poke her with pins until her hair was the epitome of the Southern style.

"What do you think?" One of her maids asked. Arya hated it, and made a face of disgust.

"It's the fashion, my Lady." She insisted, but Arya was shook her head. She had no desire to follow the silly Southern trends. They would be gone before the month was out anyway.

"I want a traditional Northern style. Wearing Lannister colors is enough for me." Her tone told the maids she wouldn't budge on this matter, and they sighed in resignation.

Eventually Arya was fitted with a modest gown. To her surprise the design was rather tasteful. The dark grey was beautifully embroidered with patterns in Lannister gold thread. She supposed she was still a Stark, and wasn't required to wear just red yet. Her hair was half pulled back in an intricate braid down her back, while the lower half of her hair was free to flow down past her shoulders. It had grown quite long since it was cut to look like a boy. Arya couldn't quite get used to her reflection, but anyone else would agree she looked like the perfect blend between Stark and Lannister.

Arya sat between Ser Kevan and Lord Tywin in the Sept of Baelor. She knew Kevan from her time serving on the Lannister war council, but she had never talked with him. Further down the bench sat Cersei and Jamie, and Arya was relieved she didn't have to put up with Cersei's attitude. Tyrion had finally returned to the capitol and he was placed in the row behind her. She assumed this was meant to be an insult, but from what she could tell he looked far too relaxed to be bothered about not sitting with his immediate family. The Tyrells were seated on the other side of the room, and the back of the hall was filled with soldiers and lesser nobles.

The ceremony didn't much interest Arya, but she felt people's eyes on her, and heard the ends of their whispers. She did her best to keep her eyes forward, and her back straight. As a child she didn't much care for looking proper, but now she'd be damned if she gave these people any more reason to disrespect the North and her family.

Only when the couple was prompted to repeat their vows did Arya turn her full attention to the dais. Her stomach started to turn as she realized she would be up there all too soon. Arya had never really prepared herself for a wedding, always holding out that she could escape it somehow. Thinking about her own wedding; the people, the attention, the pomp and circumstance set her nerves on edge.

Unconsciously, her hands balled into fists in her lap. The sudden movement did not go unnoticed by Tywin. At first it seemed as though he had decided to ignore it, but suddenly Arya felt the barest hint of pressure on the side of her leg. Her Lord husband-to-be had shifted his leg ever so slightly to brush against her own. His action caused her to glance down and she became aware of the tension in her hands. She forced herself to take a deep breath and slowly relaxed her grip, giving him a small side glance. On her other side Keven had also been watching her, but he missed his brother's subtle move, assuming that her actions were a result of her hatred and disgust of her current company.

The feast that followed was held in the gardens, and Arya found herself seated at the high table. She still wasn't used to sitting on display for all to see, but at least she didn't need to greet all of the guests like the new King and Queen. The entertainment was a bit crass, but she wasn't surprised by Joffrey's horrible sense of humor. Arya chanced a glance at the Hand, and as per usual even the Jongleur's creative rhymes didn't put a smile on his face.

The chattering suddenly died down as the King rose from his seat. He walked around the long table to address the crowd. He said some words in that winey voice of his, that Arya was sure had no importance whatsoever, and then someone let out a horrible scream.

The noise came from Cersei. Heads turned as she leapt from her chair and rushed to the King. Joffrey's goblet fell from his hand, its contents spilling onto the ground, and then he followed not a moment later. Cersei cradled her son's head in her lap, sobbing. The Kingsguard surged forward, but it was too late. Joffrey's muscles had seized up, and foam bubbled up around his purple lips. He died with fear in his cold, blue eyes. Arya watched the scene with wide eyes, and only the voice of Lord Tywin was able to break her gaze.

"Kevan." Tywin said, gesturing to Arya. Kevan assured his brother with a nod, leaving Tywin to walk headfirst into the pandemonium. Kevan then turned to Arya and offered his arm.

"Care for a turn about the gardens, my Lady?" He asked politely. She took his arm and they made their escape. They took a stroll through the maze, with a few Lannister guards stationed around them. Arya felt a bit uncomfortable. She didn't know what to say to the man. Unable to stand the awkward silence any longer, she turned to him hoping something would come to mind, but he was already opening his mouth to speak.

"Tywin may seem a hard man to you, but he's no harder than he's had to be [5]." He began. She was not expecting those words to come out of his mouth. He looked down at her and smiled kindly.

"Our own father was gentle and amiable, but so weak his bannermen mocked him in their cups. Some saw fit to defy him openly. Other Lords borrowed his gold and never troubled to repay it. At court they japed of toothless lions. Even his own mistress stole from him. A woman scarcely one step above a whore, and she helped herself to my mother's jewels [5]!" Keven paused, but he had her full attention.

"It fell to Tywin to restore House Lannister to its proper place. Just as it fell to him to rule this realm, and all it earned him was a mad king's envy. Instead of the honor he deserved, he was made to suffer slights beyond count, yet he gave the Seven Kingdoms peace, plenty and justice. He is just a man [5]." His last sentence came out quieter than the rest, as if it were a slight plea to Arya, a tentative olive branch. He waited for her reaction.

"I know." Arya said softly, giving Kevan a small smile. Kevan cocked his head to the side, studying her. Earlier in the Sept of Baelor he had assumed she was unhappy about his brother. It was only now he realized it was nerves for the wedding rather than Tywin himself. Her understanding tone made him think that their match might not be as strained as he initially thought. It might even be good for Tywin, he mused. After all these years he may have met his match.

* * *

A King's murder demanded retribution, but the dramatics were not what some had hoped for. A handful of guards, a couple of rats off the street, and a minor noble or two were tortured and found guilty, and that was enough for Tywin. Whether or not he had other suspicions regarding his grandson's death never found reason to be mentioned. The deed was done, and Tywin would not lie and say the kingdom was worse for it.

Cersei seemed to lose a bit of herself after that. She became withdrawn, and spent most of her time in her rooms, rarely engaging with anyone, even her other children. It came as a blessing to Tywin. His daughter had spoiled the first one, and he hoped that her influence wouldn't corrupt the second. He immediately began counseling Tommen, and was pleased when the boy showed promise.

Lady Olena and Lord Tywin took advantage of the guests and previous preparations, and announced the wedding of Tommen Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell not a week later. Tommen was crowned the new Lord and Protector of the Realm, and Tywin Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock was named Hand to the King. The quick turnaround time took the Kingdom by surprise, but it was a strategically sound move, and left no room for uprisings or discontent.

This time, Arya was more composed. Finally, when it was their turn to congratulate the royal couple Tywin leaned over to whisper into her ear.

"Come, we must greet the King." It was the first thing he'd said to her all day. She stood up, and took his proffered arm. Arya kept her head held high, but she couldn't stop herself from tightening her grip on his arm.

"Your Grace, your grace." Tywin said, inclining his head to each of the royals in turn. Arya followed up with a simple curtsey.

"Congratulations, and we wish you all the best." Arya said, and she meant it. Tommen was a sweet boy, and with Lord Tywin as his Hand she was sure he'd be a good King.

The dancing was next, and Arya lost herself in the twirling couple, until the next song began and Tywin stood up once again. Caught off guard, he swiftly lead her onto the floor, but he was met with a blank stare.

"Your hand, my Lady." He said with a raised eyebrow. Arya felt the heat rise up to her face, and her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. Tywin frowned as he began to lead them around the floor.

"It seems you have some work to do before our wedding." He commented. He knew she was a bit of a wild girl, but he had assumed Lady Stark had taught her the basics of Ladyship. Apparently not. Arya caught the question in his words.

"I had better things to do." She gave a shrug.

"Clearly, but I'm sure you'll pick it up quickly. Sword fighting and dancing are not that different."

The pair was largely unaware of the attention their dance had gained. Jamie, Tyrion, and Kevan were looking on with more than polite interest. Cersei of course was glaring daggers at them. She was still mourning her eldest son, and hadn't quite come to terms with the fact that there was no evidence that Arya was to blame.

Arya could feel Cersei's gaze, but pointedly ignored it. She knew it was the best way to get under her skin. Instead, she did her best to smile at her dance partner, and adopt an air of innocence. Tywin noticed her change in demeanor, and one sweep of the audience confirmed his suspicion.

"The lion need not concern itself with the opinions of the sheep." He said.

"Some sheep may have murderous intent."

"And provoking this sheep is helping?"

"My existence provokes this sheep, but I hear asserting dominance early on can be useful." Arya fired back. Her responses pleased Tywin, who once again took notice of her quick mind and wit. It reinforced his decision that adding her to the Lannister legacy was the right choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endnote: [5] Quote from A Storm of Swords, George R. R. Martin, Ch 66


	9. Chapter 9

The North traveled to King's Landing for Arya's wedding. Robb, Sansa, and her mother arrived with a small escort of men. She was overjoyed to see them, even if they didn't quite know what to make of the situation. The tensions between the Starks and the Lannisters had significantly thawed since the death of Joffrey, and Robb did not look so pained to bow to the new King. Tommen even visited their quarters privately, to express his regret at the crown's handling of Ned Stark. Upon a closer look at the young boy, Catelyn's heart softened a bit, and she assured him that the Starks did not blame him for the crimes of his brother, but the sentiment was appreciated all the same.

Catelyn Stark was old enough to have had a fair number of life experiences, but she did not know what to make of her youngest daughter. Arya happily chatted away with her family. She inquired about Bran and Jon, and the distance seemed to have make the sisters closer than ever. She didn't appear to be the least bit sad, resentful, or scared about her circumstances. And even with the new sword and dagger adorning her belt, she was acting more like a Lady than her mother had ever witnessed before. Finally, Catelyn found herself alone with her youngest daughter.

"Arya, how are you truly feeling?" She thought perhaps it was all a brave front, and now in the safety of her mother she would breakdown in tears. Yet Arya's eyes remained dry, and her voice even.

"This is not what I expected to happen— I'm sure it's not what any of us expected to happen. But I am happy that I could help bring peace between our families." There was a long pause.

"I hope father wouldn't be too angry with me." At those words Catelyn's heart broke for her daughter, and she enveloped her in a hug.

"Arya my dear, sweet girl. Your father would be so very proud of you. You were forced to grow up fast, but you've done it so well." She kissed her forehead before pulling away. Arya's smile was sad, but Catelyn liked to think her words also brought her daughter some peace of mind.

"I know you're worried about me. I'm sure you imagined my situation to be more…forced, but I entered into this marriage of my own free will. And, whatever Lord Tywin is or has done in the past, he does respect me. It's more than I could have hoped for with any Frey." Catelyn stared at her daughter. She had never meant for Arya to hear of that failed arrangement. It had been a desperate time, but now she just felt ashamed.

"I am sorry about that." She said quietly.

Arya just shrugged, as if it didn't bother her. As if it didn't sting every time she thought about it. As if her relationship with her mother was the same as before. But it wasn't, and they both knew it. Arya had stepped up and delivered for their family when they needed it most. They would always be mother and daughter, but the absolute trust a child holds for a parent had shattered long ago; not that it was a new phenomenon. Just as Arya had come to find her honorable father was just a man, so she had come to learn that her mother was only human.

* * *

Arya's wedding dress was very similar to the dress she'd worn for Tommen's wedding. Except this time it was a deep red, clearly marking her as a Lannister, with silver embroidery and a sheer cloth to drape over her shoulders. She had also been given wedged boots to wear, which was appreciated. She had been wondering how silly she would look trying to stand on her tiptoes to seal their vows. Again, she had been adamant about wearing a Northern hairstyle, and Sansa had risen to the occasion. Arya had never considered herself to be a great beauty, but no one could mistake her for a boy any longer. Her 22nd name day had already passed, and she was a grown woman now.

Robb walked her down the aisle, and she tried her best to ignore the stares and judgement of the crowd. She was a wolf, and soon a lion. Arya intended to be as spirited and cunning as a wolf, with the strength and courage of a lion. When she finally looked up at the dais she met the green eyes that awaited her. They were calm and bore no hesitation, and she used his steadfastness to steel her own conviction.

Robb placed a gentle kiss to her temple before retreating back to his seat. Arya and Tywin stood facing the High Septon. They weren't touching, and they had been in closer proximity before, but they were more aware of each other's presence than ever before. When he placed the Lannister cloak over her shoulders, bringing her under his protection, his closeness made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. When their hands joined for the tying of the knot, Arya couldn't be sure that the body heat she felt was from his hand or hers. When it was time to recite her vows, Arya's mind was only half there. The audience was inconsequential, and the Septon's words were a low buzz. Only the feel of Tywin's hand on hers kept her grounded. She wasn't even sure she closed her eyes when he kissed her. And then it was over, and the crowd was applauding as he lead her down the steps.

The feast and reception that followed was smaller than the Royal wedding's, but by no means frugal. Tywin was not one for frivolities, but it was an excellent time for Arya to meet the Western Lords, and acquaint herself with the politics. This time they were the center of the affairs, and Arya had forgotten that the actual ceremony was only the beginning. Instead of blending into the background, she put on a polite smile and accepted the congratulations of the guests.

Arya was pleasantly surprised that she had retained more information from Tywin's lessons than she expected. At least she wasn't clueless, and she was able to ask many Lords on the wellbeing of their families, fields, and ships. For the most part, Tywin was quiet, letting her handle the guests. He only stepped in when it looked like she needed help, and she learned to take the relaxed silence between them as approval.

Halfway through the guest list, Arya was feeling more confident that she would get through the ordeal, and was even a bit smug at having charmed Lord Marband. The next group stepped up to the table; Lord and Lady Swyft, and their eldest son Steffon. The Lord gave his congratulations, and Arya smiled graciously.

"Lord Tywin, this wedding came as such a surprise. I didn't know you had such…savage tastes." Steffon's tone was laced with contempt, but his eyes cast a lascivious look over Arya's form. Arya's hand instinctively sought her dagger, but a hand shot out and closed firmly around her wrist, stopping her movement. Her other hand came around to grasp his before he could pull back, using it as a replacement for her dagger. She held it in a death grip to keep herself from jumping up and breaking the boy's nose.

Beside her, Lord Tywin made no indication of their brief squabble, but the Swyft's were too busy to notice. Lord Swift, who had his back turned during his son's comment cuffed him over the head, growling angrily in his ear about his complete lack of decorum. Lady Swyft had a look of horror on her face, one hand gracefully covering her mouth. The Lord then proceeded to offer the couple profuse apologies, and assurances that both the Starks and Lannisters were old, and well respected houses.

"Lord Swyft." Arya interrupted him.

"What is your son's name?" She already knew his name, but she wanted to make a point.

"Steffon, my Lady." He answered.

"I'll remember that." She said simply. Lord Swyft gulped and then chanced a glance at Lord Tywin. He made no move to comment, but his anger was evident. His face was hard, and his eyes bore no hint of forgiveness. He did not blink, and Arya figured he could have stared the man down until dusk if he were so inclined. The man made a last hasty bow before retreating.

"Well, it can't get much worse than that." Arya finally said. Tywin only cleared his throat, and it was then that Arya noticed she had yet to let go of his hand. She blushed, and released her grip.

"Cornfield is an important part of the Westerlands, but the Swyfts are fools." Tywin muttered, so only she could hear.

"I suppose they owe us now. A blessing in disguise perhaps." He inclined his head towards her.

"Thinking like a politician already." Arya grinned, pleased with herself.

* * *

Lord Tywin, usually so stiff and formal, was a graceful dancer. Unlike Arya, his mother had made sure he attended his lessons. He approached the dance like she were any other partner, and it wasn't like they hadn't danced together before. He was pleased to find that she had taken his suggestion seriously, and worked on her steps. However, without needing to focus on keeping her upright, his mind started to wander.

With Joffrey's death, crowning Tommen, and the King's marriage to the Tyrell girl he did not have a chance to dwell on his own wedding. Tywin never thought he would get married again, and had even refused betrothals outright in his earlier days as a widower. This match had been purely political, and essential to continuing the Lannister legacy. But he couldn't truly find a logical reason for his growing fondness for her. Yes, she was bright, and spirited, and came from a good family, but why he chose the second daughter over the first, he didn't care to try and answer.

* * *

Unbeknownst to him, others were discussing the same subject. On the sidelines, Catelyn and Robb were watching the couple.

"I don't understand why he chose to marry Arya." Robb said to his mother.

"To end the war, and bind the Starks and the Lannisters." His mother replied.

"The political advantage would have been to marry Sansa." He countered. Catelyn didn't have anything to say to that. It was true. As the second daughter, Arya did not have a strong claim to Winterfell.

"It seems, that somehow, your sister has found favor with my father." The Starks turned to see Tyrion Lannister approaching them. They both blinked at his words, not entirely sure they'd heard him correctly.

"What may be even harder to believe is that he has also found favor with her." He continued unperturbed. Robb's face showed his immediate rejection to the possibility, but Catelyn wasn't so sure Tyrion was wrong. She remembered her daughter's words regarding Lord Tywin the other night.

"I suppose he was able to give her what we never would have." She said quietly. Robb turned sharply to his mother. Just the thought that Arya was anything but vehemently against this marriage did not sit well with him. Even though they were now at peace, and had been joined in marriage, it had all been forced by Tywin Lannister.

"She carries a sword and dagger, spends all day with him in the tower of the Hand, and from what I hear, they mutually agreed to this alliance." Tyrion said.

"But he's almost twice her age!" Robb burst out. In spite of Robb's trials in the war, his experiences had not given him the revelations that Arya and Sansa had come to. He still believed in the black and white of honor and evil. While he had been forced to make some hard tactical decisions, his position had been very much removed from the enemy, and his ideals were never questioned.

"It still doesn't make sense why he didn't have her marry the Kingslayer." Robb pressed. Tyrion froze for a moment. They were getting into dangerous territory. No one was supposed to know of Jamie's condition, but there were bound to be questions and rumors as to why the first born son had been passed over. It was widely known that Tywin wanted Jamie to leave the Kingsguard. Tyrion chose his next words carefully.

"My brother remains as loyal as ever to his post, and we all know the vows of the Kingsguard."

"What does your brother know of vows and honor?" Robb retorted. Tyrion only sighed. That's why he didn't much like Starks. They were too wrapped up in their honor, refusing to acknowledge the shades of reality. If only they knew the true story of the Mad King's demise.

"Believe whatever you will, but I think my Lord father's actions show what he thinks of the matter." Tyrion took his leave after that, not wanting to get caught in an argument. It wouldn't do for the public image of unity.

* * *

The dance wasn't romantic; Arya hadn't fussed over the song choice, as there was no particular sentiment attached to their courtship. However, there was a certain weight that overcame them, knowing it was only their will that held the peace, and it was impossible that shared responsibility would not bring them closer.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: WARNING: wedding night scene. Skip first section if you don't want to read. I tried to make it tasteful without skipping over it (first time writing one).

There was no bedding ceremony, and for that Arya was grateful. There was no uproar of disappointment, and no one tried to persuade them otherwise. In fact, many of the guests would have been shocked if Lord Tywin had allowed it, given the rumors about what happened at his last one.

They arrived in their chambers, and Arya dropped onto the bed, exhausted. Tywin walked to the nightstand and poured two glasses of wine, wordlessly handing one to Arya. Her confusion was met with a knowing look, causing her to blush and quickly down the wine. Tywin's calm demeanor unnerved her, and she got up to look out the window; anything to avoid his gaze. Arya had known this would happen, knew that his legacy was important to him, and yet she still couldn't bring herself to face it head on.

Tywin sat down on the edge of the bed, and removed his boots. A mundane task, but Arya tensed at the sound. He glanced up at his wife, and regarded her for a moment. Tywin could feel her uncertainty and embarrassment from the other side of the room. He did not want her experience to be uncomfortable, but she'd have to participate to some degree if they were going to get to that level. The working relationship, and trust they had been building was important, and he did not want to squander it now. Easing her into it seemed like the best way to go. It was going to be a long night. Luckily, Tywin was not want for patience.

"Arya." His voice was softer, and deeper than she'd ever heard before. She turned to face him. Without any words, she understood his command and walked towards him until they were face to face. He slowly undid the lace of his tunic and pulled it off. Arya's eyes wandered over his torso, surprised to find that she didn't find him unappealing to look at. He didn't have the chiseled definition of a youth, but he looked fit, and the hand that inadvertently reached out to touch him told her he was well muscled.

Tywin simply waited, watching her, but when her thumb passed over his exposed nipple, he stiffened and let out a soft hiss. She pulled her hand away, afraid she'd hurt him, but when she saw the look in his eyes Arya realized it hadn't been a sound of pain, but pleasure.

Tywin reached down and took ahold of her slip, pulling it slowly up and over her head. He stood up, towering over her naked form, and stepped aside so she could slide under the covers. He quickly divested himself of his trousers, and climbed in after her.

Arya didn't know where to look, and finally settled on looking to the side. Without the visual cue, she was surprised when she felt his warm breath on her neck, and the light brush of his lips against her skin. One of his hands found its way to her breast, as his mouth went to meet it. Once he finished with one he did the same thing with her other side. Arya felt something hard pressing into her leg and found her breath quickening at the attention, and a strange feeling began to develop in her abdomen.

Soon, she grew more comfortable with his touch, and hesitantly brought her own hands up to meet his body. She ran them over his shoulders, and down his chest, crossing over a light sprinkling of hair. His breathing in her ear grew heavier as she continued her exploration, and remembering his earlier response she experimentally flicked his nipple again. Tywin's reaction was immediate. He let out a low growl, and instinctively ground himself against her, causing Arya to gasp and arch her back, pressing herself against him, unconsciously seeking more friction.

Arya's ardent response assured him she was more than ready, and it had almost pushed him to his limit. He aligned himself with her entrance before gently pushing through. He stilled his movements to give her time to adjust. When he reached her hymen he whispered in her ear. Her arms encircled him, and she nodded against his neck. Tywin quickly thrust past her maidenhead, burying himself completely inside of her. Once she relaxed her hold, he began a steady, rhythmic movement. It didn't take long for her to start feeling the sensation building again, and when Tywin reached down between them his fingers pushed her over the edge. She wrapped her legs around him, and let the sensations take over. Her husband rode through her pleasure, and followed soon after.

"Arya." Tywin muttered her name again, and gently tugged on her legs until she unwrapped them from his waist. Their breathing had returned to normal, but she was still clinging to him, hiding her face. She shook her head in response, and he sighed. Arya was a bit embarrassed about her reaction in the last moments, and confused at the physical pleasure he'd brought her. She didn't have the strength to face it now. He slipped out of her, rearranging them so they were lying next to each other, and let her do as she pleased.

Tywin waited for her to fall asleep before extracting himself from her limbs, and cleaning them up. When Arya awoke the next morning, he had already left.

* * *

The couple quickly fell into a comfortable routine. Arya practiced her sword skills, and learned more about Casterly Rock. In the evenings he would show her some of the more interesting business he'd been working on. She would always retire to their chambers before him, and was asleep by the time he joined her. He had bedded her only once more since their wedding night, and it had again evoked a clash of feelings within Arya.

Tywin took care that their private life never bled into their professional life, but that didn't stop Arya from thinking about it from time to time. He was nothing but gentle with her, but she sensed that he was holding back. There was no way his strong, commanding personality simply dissipated during intimacy. However, more pressing matters soon arrived. Stannis Baratheon had finally come out of hiding, and was at Dragonstone.

"The raven arrived during breakfast." Tywin said by way of an explanation.

"It doesn't say anything about the state of his forces." Tywin sighed.

"No it does not. We will need a scouting force to gather information. It's always better to wait for more information than to strike blindly." Arya nodded thoughtfully.

"I could take care of it." She offered suddenly. He looked up at her, studying her face. Arya stood her ground, determination emanating from her eyes. Finally, he gave a single nod of agreement.

"It will be good for you to get to know the soldiers. Get me a list of the men you want by the end of the week. We don't want to leave Stannis with too much free time."

Arya was glad he let her do this task. She knew as soon as she read the letter that another war was inevitable, and Tywin would spend all his energy trying to win it. Sharing the burden made her feel useful, and closer to him. She also wanted to take a closer look at the Lannister forces. Arya had emerged herself in the politics, but she knew that if she were to ever create a reputation of her own, it would be best to start with the men on the ground.

* * *

Arya had forgone her dress, and instead opted for a more practical outfit. She wore a dark maroon leather jerkin, paired with a black knee-length skirt, fitted trousers, and riding boots. She had a few custom outfits like this made. It was more preferable than a dress, but still good enough for her status, and she rather thought herself ingenious when she paired the northern style with the Lannister colors. What was more, no other Lady in the capitol dressed as she did, and it would help disguise her if need be.

She arrived in the training yard, keeping to the shadows. It was always advantageous to know who you were dealing with beforehand. Getting a feel for her target's personality, she stepped out to catch his attention. Upon hearing a commotion behind him, the battle master turned only to find his gaze drawn downward as a girl looked up at him confidently. He did not know who she was, or what she was doing here, but her confidence made him hesitate.

"Battle master." She said holding out her hand, palm facedown. Arya did not normally insist upon such formalities, but she figured it was a subtle way to let the man know who she was, or at least of her status. His next move would let her determine how sharp he actually was. With a spark of recognition, he bowed, and placed a polite kiss on her hand.

"My Lady." He said.

"My apologies for not recognizing you. I'm afraid I've only seen you once before." He had seen her at her wedding, and she had been dressed very differently then. The battle master was also curious to see how she'd react to his mistaking her. His experience with noble women were that they were whimsical and delicate, if a bit haughty, but she had already surprised him by coming to see him personally.

"No need to apologize, ser. I arrived without notice. Would you mind giving me a tour?" Arya asked. The battle master relaxed and even expressed enthusiasm as he gave her the run down. She gave him her full attention, and asked engaging questions. By the time they arrived at his office, Arya felt confident that the battle master knew his trade, and his men.

"I am here to assemble a small scouting force for an important mission." She said as he settled himself behind his desk.

"It seems you know your men well. I am hoping you can provide me with a list of six men you think are prudent, and trustworthy. I would of course like to meet with them, before any final decision is made. Will tomorrow be too soon?" The battle master was nodding eagerly.

"Of course. I'll have you six good men by tomorrow. I doubt you'll turn one away." Arya smiled graciously at him and took her leave. She felt lighthearted after her successful encounter. He had seemed wary of her at first, but by the end was eager to help. She was certain that not everyone would treat her as he had done, but it was a start.

In fact, while talking with the battle master, Arya had had an idea regarding the scouting force. She wasn't a seasoned tactician by any means, but it wouldn't hurt to run it by her husband.

* * *

"Yes, that could work." Tywin said. He and Arya were standing at his desk, studying a large map with various pieces scattered around the board, like a game of chess.

Arya had gone straight to the tower of the Hand after meeting with the battle master, not wanting to waste another minute. He was surprised to see her back so soon, but his interested piqued as she began to explain her idea. Tywin planned to wait until Stannis marched on King's Landing, intending to draw him out to more advantageous terrain and avoid a siege. Before Stannis left Dragonstone, Arya wanted to use the scouting team to sneak a Lannister force behind enemy lines, forcing Stannis to fight on two fronts.

"I'm not as familiar with the layout of the land, so I wasn't sure how plausible it would be to position a large enough force in time."

"It would be safer to go in smaller groups. If they're caught it's less of a loss for us." Tywin added.

"What about cavalry?" Arya asked, but Tywin shook his head.

"We'd only be able to use foot soldiers for this one." He paused, thinking through her proposal again. She waited with bated breath, wondering if he'd find any plot holes that would cause him to dismiss the plan.

"It's a good plan." Arya gave him a genuine smile, very pleased with herself. Tywin caught her expression and inclined his head.

"But it's not very honorable." He commented. Arya looked up at him, and saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes. She shrugged.

"You should know by now no one is nearly as honorable as my father." Tywin didn't answer; his way of conceding the point.

Arya met with the new scout force the next day, and as the battle master had promised, she liked every one of them. The group was receptive to her role as their new commander, and impressed by her plan. They were to set out before dawn for initial intelligence gathering on Stannis' forces, and she would meet with them upon each return to assess the situation, and green light the next stage.

Arya wouldn't say she liked war, but it had given her opportunities she had only dreamed of. She wouldn't have chosen this path, but she had no qualms about using everything at her disposal to show the world what she was made of.


	11. Chapter 11

Tywin had been working from dawn to well past dusk every day since Stannis Baratheon had landed at Dragonstone. During times like these, it wasn't unusual for Tywin to forget about the more mundane things, like eating. More than once, Arya had forcibly made him take a break to eat. However, today was a good day. Content with their strategy against Stannis, and knowing Arya was handling the scout force Tywin let himself take a mental break.

His thoughts turned to his wife. That term still sounded foreign to him, even in his head, but it wasn't an unpleasant thought. He knew many people at court, and even Lords of the other seven kingdoms thought him mad for marrying her. Politically, her elder sister would have had a better claim to Winterfell. However, time and time again Arya backed up his decision. She may only be the second daughter, but the North ran strong through her veins. As he predicted, she had proved herself worthy to uphold the Lannister legacy.

Ever since he met her in Harrenhal, even before he knew her true identity, he'd suspected that given the chance she could make waves. The first thing that drew him to her was her keen mind, and wit. And though she was the same age as his children, he had come to think of her as an equal- not that he would have settled for anything less. Her trials and experiences had made her smarter and wiser than her years, while his own children had turned soft and spoiled off the labor of his own achievements.

After their wedding, he tried to keep their relationship outside of the bedroom strictly professional, partly in deference to her. He'd long given up on that part of his life when his first wife died. And though he wasn't displeased with her in that department— he was a man after all— it was better this way he assured himself. It was strictly business.

And yet, sometimes he swore he saw a look in her eyes that was not altogether professional, but it was always gone before he could confirm anything. He tried not to linger on these thoughts for too long. Nothing good ever came of pondering what ifs, or maybes. And the more he thought about her the more he was forced to examine his own feelings, which was something he always tried to actively avoid. Feelings led to doubt, and doubt led to weakness.

Arya and Tywin were in the main tent confirming last minute details. The scouts had been positioning a force of foot soldiers behind Stannis' line throughout the last couple of months, and now he was making his play. The Lannister and Crown's forces were preparing to intercept the invading army, commanded by Lord Tywin. Arya would travel with the scouts to oversee the attack of the rear flank.

After the other officers had left, it was just Arya and Tywin. Stannis was a day's march away, and Tywin was still dressed in his normal court clothes. Arya cinched her belt that held needle and her dagger, and made to follow the other officers out.

"Arya." He called suddenly. She turned around just before reaching the tent flap.

"Don't do anything reckless." He said. They gazed intently at one another across the room, trying to read each other. Finally, she gave a nod before exiting the tent. They wouldn't see each other again until after the battle.

Arya mounted her horse and disappeared into the trees after her scouts. It was imperative they were in position before Stannis met their main force. She placed some of the men in the tree line to stand watch, and then settled down to wait.

With a start she awoke from a light doze at the trembling of hundreds of hoofbeats passing by. Even though they were well hidden, she stayed stock-still until her force was behind them. When the first horn rang out, they started to move out, staying within the tree line. She wanted to get as close as possible to Stannis' forces before making their appearance known.

By the time they were in charging distance, the cavalries had already clashed, but Arya signaled her men to hold. She wanted to wait until more of his forces were engaged before attacking. It was no use if most of the enemy was well enough to turn on them. Arya had managed to sneak a large amount past Dragonstone, but it was still smaller than the main force of either army.

Once the better part of Stannis' men had run forward, Arya signaled her men to enter the fray, but unlike normal combat, she instructed them to move silently, without the usual battle cry. Arya stayed behind with a small group of mounted men to take care of stragglers. No one was to escape.

The blood pounded in her ears as her adrenaline spiked, and her sword found its mark; one, two, three, four times. She soon lost count. It was her first battle, and she felt alive. This is what she had been training for, and in that moment everything she had gone through seemed worth it. She was a Stark that had married a Lannister. She was a woman who had charged into battle. Maybe it was still too soon for them to write songs about her, but she still had plenty of time for that.

Not much surprised Arya these days, but nothing prepared her for the sheer force of Lord Tywin Lannister. This was not Tywin the Hand, not Tywin the strategist, nor Tywin the commander; it was only the Lord of Casterly Rock, the man himself that demanded respect in such a way, and he was her husband. It made her heart skip a beat with just a glance.

Tywin's appearance flickered under the torches in the night, and Arya's attention had never before been fixated so thoroughly. His armor was worth more than most men made in a lifetime. He didn't possess the stereotypical build of a knight, but there was still power beneath each movement he made. He had stood behind an army thousands strong, yet somehow it seemed as if he were at its head. There were many factors that appealed to his strength, but it was his face, manner, and the memory of his voice that drew her in. Her horse remained still, so it was not the creature's movements that caused the warming in her abdomen; a tingle that almost seemed self-aware and spread as she finally acknowledged it. While the adrenaline from the battle was still running its course, this feeling was distinctly different. Tywin's energy, his very presence, seeped into her. It touched her, and awakened something deep inside. Arya had heard the phrase 'stirs the blood' but had never really understood it until that moment.

Despite her better sense, she made her way through the soldiers. Their unfamiliar faces all looked at her with curiosity and even outright hostility before they noticed the embroidery and colors that named her a Lannister. As she drew her horse closer to Tywin, she was met with a dozen blades of his personal guard.

"Let her pass." Ser Kevan's voice rang out. Arya gave him a nod of thanks and continued forward.

"Lord Tywin." Her voice was almost drowned out against the commotion of the soldiers around her. Her approach was an act brought on by adrenaline, by desire, by foreign passions she had never explored, but wanted to with this man.

In the heat of the moment, the adrenaline still pumping in her veins, and the drive of hormonal desire, she moved her horse closer to his until they were sitting side by side. The top of her head became damp with the start of a light rain, but everything that wasn't Tywin became secondary.

For a brief period, Arya was only aware of herself, and the man next to her. He finally turned his attention to her, and in that moment she kissed him. It was a kiss of relief rather than the lust that had overtaken her, and romantic in its own way if either of them took the time to consider such things. The kiss lasted less than a second, barely enough time to feel his lips beyond a simple brush of flesh before she pulled away. She didn't blush after; she felt no shame in her action, only a simple dose of accomplishment.

Tywin's eyes widened. His wife surprised him on many occasions, but it had never crossed into this area of their lives. He stared at her, and she met his gaze with a heated look that held the promise of something more [6].

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endnote: [6] Adapted from Blood and Water, Ozma (AO3)
> 
> I am aware there are some plot holes which will be reviewed at a later date- probably after the entire story has been posted.


	12. Chapter 12

The candles flickered in the soft breeze as Tywin did paperwork. No one ever said that half of a war was in the documents. Even though the battle had been won there were still many loose ends to tie up; payments to be made, traveling arrangements to settle, and of course informing the other kingdoms of the Lannister victory.

The shadows on the opposite wall had grown increasing longer as the sun went down. He didn't see the door to his chambers open, or the movement of a figure slip out until she was almost in front of him. She just stood there silently, waiting patiently for him to see her. When he finally did, he gave a little start, but continued what he was doing. Arya's eyes never left his face. He felt her eyes on him, but it was only once he'd finished sealing the letter with his insignia that he looked up. It was then he noticed the intensity of her stare, and how the distance between them had closed.

Her unwavering gaze brought back memories of their encounter after the battle, only a day before. It held the same energy, and he could feel it pulling him in. However, this was unfamiliar territory for them, and he didn't dare make a move. The tension in the air was palpable, and Arya only fueled it by slowly, and deliberately licking her lips. Tywin's attention immediately dropped to her mouth, following the path of her tongue intently. He made no move to hide his actions, which seemed to please Arya.

Her proximity heightened his senses, and after what felt like an eternity her lips finally met his. It was more than the brush of before, but she kept it light, teasing him, daring him to make it more. She pulled away just as slowly, and then turned and walked towards the door. Tywin was still in his seat when she paused at the doorway to their chambers, and threw a look at him over her shoulder. Their eyes met, and even from a distance he could see the summon in her dilated pupils. She disappeared behind the door, her husband not far behind.

Arya stood by the window. The moon was rising, and it cast an ethereal glow across the room. Tywin's boots resounded against the floor as he walked up behind her. One of his hands rested against the wall, and his other moved her hair to the side, exposing her neck. He inhaled her scent, as his hand started to roam. He traced her shoulder, then up and down her arm, and finally cupped her breast. Arya's breathing hitched, and her head fell back against his chest, giving him more access. Tywin smirked in satisfaction. She wasn't the only one who could tease.

Her breathing grew shallower as his lips danced across her skin, and he fondled her breasts through her nightgown. When his hand wandered farther down, massaging her inner thigh, she let out a breathy moan, but before Tywin could relish another victory, he let out a growl. Arya had braced her hand against the wall, and ground herself against him wantonly. She pulled away from him slightly, only to come back with more fervor. His hands grasped her hips, holding her her place, as he panted in her ear.

"Careful." He ground out.

Tywin's voice, gravelly and filled with lust shot straight to her core. Arya broke from his grip and whirled around. Her hands snaked around his neck and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Her lips moved sensually against his own, and his slightly parted lips were immediately filled with her softly probing tongue. He let her explore his mouth for a moment, enjoying the attention, and when he met her in the middle, she drew him in even closer. When they pulled apart for some much needed air, she immediately began to pepper him with opened-mouth kisses along his jaw and down his neck. His taste was intoxicating and she couldn't get enough.

He maneuvered them so she was pinned between the wall and his body. It gave him the freedom of his hands, while still allowing him to grind against her. His hands were in her hair, on her breasts, gripping her butt. Her hands slid under his tunic and roamed his chest, teased his nipples, and raked down his back. Their breathing was ragged now, and Arya finally braced herself against his shoulder as she wrapped her legs around his waist. They both stilled for a moment as they felt the heat of the other so close to home. He rocked his hips into her, and she met him thrust for thrust.

"Bed. Now." She commanded, her eyes blazing with desire. They tumbled into bed naked as flesh met flesh and their mouth reconnected in a heated embrace. Arya did not know which way was up or down, and nor did she care. He was everywhere; his scent, his lips, his hands. And then he was there. Her folds were slick and his tongue only made her wetter. When he entered her she moaned loudly, and arched her back, sending him deeper. He swirled his tongue expertly, plunging in and out, bringing her to the edge. Her hands slid into his hair, keeping him in place as her thrusts became more erratic and forceful. When his mouth found her clit, she let out a cry as she climaxed.

Tywin kept his lips on her nub as she pulsed in his mouth, and lapped up her juices before kissing his way up her body. He claimed her lips. His tongue invaded her mouth, mirroring the way he'd thrust it into her seconds earlier. Tywin was extremely hard now, and he rocked against her core, yearning for release. The simultaneous movements at both ends of her body brought on a fresh wave of desire.

Suddenly he flipped them over. She straddled his body, and started rubbing herself against him. Then, with a wicked gleam in her eye, she leaned over and licked his nipple. He hissed, and bucked his hips. She switched between quick darts, and long sweeps with the flat of her tongue. Arya relished the sounds she elicited from her husband. When she sensed he was near the edge of his control, she stopped her ministrations. Looking him straight in the eye, she lowered herself onto him, enveloping him in her heat.

She was on her back again before she could blink, and Tywin was pumping in and out of her with abandon. She was tight, and hugged him in all the right places. Arya wrapped her legs around his waist, angling him deeper. He rolled his hips on the next thrust, hitting her sweet spot, and sending her over the edge for the second time that night. Her walls clenched around him, and the pressure had Tywin pressing her further into the mattress as he came.

Once they came down from their high he rolled off of her. After cleaning them both with a cloth, he climbed into bed and drew her close. She nestled into the crook of his neck and nodded off.


	13. Chapter 13

Tommen Baratheon, with no other contenders for the throne, flourished under his Grandfather's counsel. He exercised kindness and wisdom during his rein, and soon the Hand was able to transfer the majority of the responsibility to the rightful overseer. Eventually, Tywin Lannister stepped down as the Hand, and turned his attention to Casterly Rock, with Lady Arya by his side.

* * *

Tywin Lannister was a harsh man, no one could deny that. However, there was a news softness there that he only showed her. It took her many moons to take the sporadic, odd gestures as a such, but now she was able to recognize his subtle communications for what they were.

It was well into the night as they sat over a small desk in his office at Casterly Rock. The golden glow of the candles illuminated their outlines so that they were tinged with a warm, rich brown as they faded in and out of the other's vision.

He touched her hand. The side of his thumb brushed against her wrist, the soft pressure lingering for a moment before retreating. If it had been anyone else Arya would have labeled it accidental, but she had become familiar with his small displays of affection and support. Neither flinched at the contact, and the mismatched duo continued their discussion unhindered, as if the graze never happened at all. Tywin continued to speak about how she would control funds, guardsmen, and trade, and Arya found it was these times she felt most at peace. The subject was irrelevant to her, as she'd rather be planning battle tactics, but her husband's simple, open respect for her was most welcome.

The seven kingdoms only knew the strict professionalism in which they conducted their public relationship, and only the subtle touches allude to a deeper connection between the two. But anyone who truly knew them were never in doubt.

Although there had not been any official lessons since the early stages of their marriage, Arya still looked to his experience and guidance. Over the years she watched him order his knights around, and manage his resources effectively. Instinctively, she adopted many of his mannerisms. Sometimes, when she recognized the change within her, she cursed herself. Yet, he was one of the greatest players of the game the world had ever known, and she was his protégé. The thought never failed to make her smile [3].

Behind closed doors their fondness for each other was obvious. After the battle against Stannis their relationship took on a new air, more intimate than before; equals inside the bedroom and out. Not long ago, Tywin would have called it a weakness, what she had become to him, but now she was his strength.

She was fire and he was ice, but rather than falling into a mutually assured destruction, they played off one another and emerged stronger than either of them could have achieved alone. She was a wolf and he was a lion, and they were a force to be reckoned with.

* * *

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, all!

**Author's Note:**

> Review, follow, and favorite as it please you. X


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